


Send in the Clowns

by VitriolicHarli



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitriolicHarli/pseuds/VitriolicHarli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never really anyone's fault. Sometimes things run their course. Some of us are lucky enough to have the end come peacefully. Some of us are lucky enough to find the strength to hold on. Others...are not so lucky. Others can't remember the reason to hold on. They can't remember the reason to keep trying. Reason never matters. It's a break-up. Everyone involved are guilty of running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send in the Clowns

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Send In the Clowns performed by Frank Sinatra written by Stephen Sondhiem

 

_Isn't it rich?_

_Are we a pair?_

_Me here at last on the ground,_

_You in mid-air._

_Send in the clowns._

 

When it ended, it ended hard.

They had argued over the phone. Hissed threats. Insults that bruised and fractured more than any blows they had ever come to. They ripped scabs on open wounds and dug blunt nails and jagged teeth so deep that there was no antibody for the infection left behind. The disease, the poison and venom that had begun to permeate their once impregnable defenses that they would almost call love.

It was only natural. The way of relationships. The way of intimacy. The way of anything in the known universe. Things came together, closely knit, tight almost colliding and then would explode apart leaving so much chaos to bring new order to. But they weren’t ready. They weren’t ready and weren’t accepting of it.

 

_Isn't it bliss?_

_Don't you approve?_

_One who keeps tearing around,_

_And one who can't move._

_Where are the clowns?_

_Send in the clowns._

 

When angry word spat through a dying receiver was enough to scathe ears, they weren’t ready.

When the slamming of a door to gain entry to the former sanctuary of the home their supposedly infallible affection resided in, they weren’t ready.

Bodies slammed against walls, tongue and teeth on skin. Violent pulling of limbs, fingertips leaving blood welling just beneath skin. Loud cries of abandon at how much it hurt and how good it felt and how bad they needed it and how much they wanted it. Leaving trails of infuriated and desperate pleasures on backs and hips just to hold on tight for what was coming. Because despite how good it felt, how much it hurt, how bad they both needed and wanted it…there was nothing.

 There was nothing and it was over.

 

_Just when I'd stopped opening doors,_

_Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,_

_Making my entrance again with my usual flair,_

_Sure of my lines,_

_No one is there._

 

When Levi left in the middle of the night, Erwin didn’t even pretend to be asleep…nor did he wake to stop him. He simply stared at the wall and listened to the slow steps. His heart beat loud and nearly deafening in his chest but it couldn’t drown out the small bit of hesitance in the supposedly sure steps when they got to the bedroom door. Erwin felt eyes on his back, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t move.

He was a coward.

He came home the next day. Empty. Nothing had changed; it felt like his home as it once was. Showering, he’d reach for the towel closest only to find that his was on the side it was always on. He went to the bed where it lay as the mess he’d left it this morning. No one had put care into making it.

Hours, days, weeks…a month.

Erwin finally picked up his phone and dialed Levi’s number. Disconnected.

 

_Don't you love farce?_

_My fault I fear._

_I thought that you'd want what I want._

_Sorry, my dear._

_But where are the clowns?_

_Quick, send in the clowns._

_Don't bother, they're here._

 

A week later, the mail boy came to his office with a small package. No return address, only his name on a small paper bag inside the brown packaging. He opened it.

_Coward…_

That was all that was written on the card as Levi’s wedding ring rolled out of the bag and hit the desk with a final tap.

Erwin picked it up with no expression and closed his fist around it. He pressed that fist to his lips before in a fit of rage throwing it down on the desk.

-

-

-

“Hey whatever happened with Erwin?”

“Fuck if I know,” Levin replied finally deleting Erwin’s number for good…having kept it despite switching phones. He’d grown the courage not to call back and not to need a last resort. He smiled faintly at the contact deleted. “We were just…tired of each other’s bullshit.”

 

_Isn't it rich?_

_Isn't it queer,_

_Losing my timing this late_

_In my career?_

_And where are the clowns?_

_There ought to be clowns._

_Well, maybe next year._

**Author's Note:**

> something that came to me when I was listening to music and writing the next chapter of Outrecuidance. Its short, ugly and bitter. Enjoy.


End file.
